


Portkey For Tea

by lettersbyelise



Series: Wordless I Love Yous [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Based on a Tumblr Post, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, New Relationship, Travel, missing each other, wordless i love yous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 05:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/pseuds/lettersbyelise
Summary: Draco is doing a two months residency at a Wizarding hospital in San Diego. Harry misses him too much to wait for him to come back to England.





	Portkey For Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onereader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/gifts).



> Dear [onereader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/profile),  
> This was written for your prompt: "traveling long distances just to see them." It was so much fun to write for such a lovely person as you are, and I'm so glad to have written your first H/D gift fic <333

“Another day in paradise,” Draco announces as the door thunks closed behind their last patient, pulling at yet another pair of rubber gloves. They come off with an inelegant  _ clack, _ and he tosses them in the bin in the corner. “Can't say this is how I envisioned San Diego.”

“More walks by the beach, less rectal exams?” Isobel looks up from her stack of prescriptions. Silver-haired, with dark-rimmed glasses and a sharp smile, Draco's always found Dr. Isobel Marx starkly intelligent, smart as a whip... and slightly intimidating. She’d spent a few weeks as a visiting Healer at St Mungo’s and Draco had been incredibly pleased to become her friend. The invitation to visit came five days after she Portkeyed back to San Diego: a two month residency exchange at the Thelma Canton Center For Magical Ailments and Diseases.e was too flattered to refuse, despite the recent...  _ developments  _ in his personal life.

Well.

_ Development,  _ singular.

Nevertheless a development that had occupied the (very) best part of his waking hours when he was still in London—and had kept him up well into the early hours of the night.

“Oh, the rectal exams were an expected part of the deal. I just didn't expect the  _ patients _ to be so...” he grimaces, in a way he knows is more charming than offensive, “...American?”

Isobel bursts out laughing. She gives him one of those looks, the kind that says,  _ Look at you, all dapper in your Italian-cut suit,  _ and  _ Who's the sartorial effort for, when it's going to be hidden under those dreadful Healer robes? _ She shakes her head.

“It's a minor inconvenience of working in the States, my dear Draco. You have to suffer through endless days of our thick, pedestrian accent and our cheap, flashy clothes.”

He sits at the edge of her desk and eyes her with a smile. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh? You've come to like us, then?”

“I've come to appreciate the fact that people greet me with a nice smile and a  _ ‘Nice to meet you, Healer Malfoy’ _ when I visit their rooms, instead of the blasé yet demanding nature of British patients.” He gives her a rueful smile. “I still miss London, though. I miss the rain. The Californian sun does not do my skin any favours.”

Isobel tilts her chin back. “Uh huh,” she says.

“What?”

“I could have sworn there were other things you missed.”

Draco narrows his eyes at her.

“Other things?”

“Oh, I don't know, Draco,” she shrugs. Too casual. Draco tenses. That shrug always means trouble. It always means,  _ I know something you don't, Draco, and I'm going to rub it in your face. _ “I heard—just hospital chit-chat, mind you—i heard that one of your  _ friends _ inquired about you.”

Draco frowns. “My friends  _ inquire _ to me directly. Via firecalls. Long, tedious firecalls.” Pansy was such a chatterbox. Each of her calls had cost Draco a handful of dollars. As in, couldn't close his fist around that many dollar bills because it was so full. 

“Oh, but life would be so terribly dull, Draco, if the only human contact we had were the ones we expected.”

He narrows his eyes. “What do you know, ‘Bel?”

“ _ Someone _ called and asked about your  _ schedule _ ...and whether or not you'd be amenable to having visitors.”

“Someone?” Draco straightens, immediately concerned. “Who? I hope you didn't— I've no time for visitors. That's what you should tell people. Healer Malfoy is incredibly busy. No. Time. For. Visitors.”

She gives him a benign smile. “Just go home, honey. Maybe there's a surprise waiting for you. A  _ friendly _ surprise.”

“Blaise? Has Blaise come to visit me?” Draco huffs. “Merlin. Last time he and Theo visited, hospital-size barrels of hangover potion wouldn't have been enough to—” he remembers Isobel is, technically, his supervisor. Catches himself. “Help them. Er. We had a fun, but slightly overwhelmingly raucous time?”

“Then by all means,” Isobel says, and her eyes glint with amusement behind her glasses, “Take the day off tomorrow. You've more than earned it.”

 

***

 

Draco steps out of his fireplace, dusting soot off his trousers.

“A little birdie told me that you've struck again, Blaise,” he called into the expanse of his flat. “Let it be clear from the beginning: we are not doing pitchers of margaritas this time, no matter how vehemently you beg.”

“Blaise?” comes a huff of laughter from Draco's kitchen, and it is definitely not Blaise's voice. Draco's head snaps up. All the blood leaves his face, then comes back in a rush. It thunders in his ears for a moment — an out-of-breath, gut-punched moment. “Thank Merlin I know Blaise is straight as a die, or I’d actually be jealous.”

Draco grabs at the mantlepiece for support. Breathes in. Breathes out. And walks to the kitchen.

Harry is sitting at the table, a steaming mug of tea in hand, as if he was waiting for Draco in the early spring warmth of his living room in London, and not under the heavy-handed cooling charms of Draco's Californian flat. 

He spreads his legs when he sees Draco, brazen, his cocky grin brighter than the fucking sun. Only the shy flicker in his gaze — guarded, cautious — gives away his uncertainty.

Draco stares, hands on his hips, heart beating in his throat. Is Harry actually here? Or is he the product of just too many recent daydreams?

“Harry,” he says. It comes out as a question, which instantly makes him feel a bit stupid. 

Harry's smile almost falters, then valiantly stays on.

“Forgotten me already? I know it's been a while.”

“Forgotten you?” Draco hangs his head, shakes it with a wry huff of laughter. “Forgotten you.” He looks up at Harry. Meeting his gaze is almost too much. Almost like Draco wants to look away, but can't. So he closes the space between them and in one swift motion, falls on his knees between Harry's spread thighs. His arms go up around his waist and he buries his face in the soft fabric of his shirt, relishing the heat and solidity beneath it.

After a beat, Harry's hands come to Draco's hair, carding lightly through it. Draco feels him laugh, a soft rumble from where his head is resting. He thinks that perhaps he should be embarrassed by his display of emotion, of weakness for this man, or by his current position, kneeling on the cold tiles almost in supplication between Harry's legs... The thought is dim, though, as if it belongs to someone else, and Draco forgets about it on the next tug of Harry's fingers in his hair.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, cautious.

It's Draco's turn to laugh, and he pulls back to gaze up at Harry's face.

“Very much so.”

“You seemed like you needed a minute.”

“Oh, shut up, you smug bastard.”

“Smug bastard? That's not a very nice thing to say to someone who's crossed a bloody ocean and a very large piece of land to see you. By Portkey, I should add. You do know how unpleasant traveling long distance by Portkey is, don’t you?”

Draco disengages from their embrace. He reaches for Harry’s hand, the one that was in his hair, and pulls him to his feet. “I do. And I appreciate it.” He takes the mug from Harry’s other hand and places it on the table. “This is all a bit… sudden.”

“Not expecting surprise visitors?” Harry asks with a pleased little smile. “Colour me relieved.”

_ “Relieved.” _ Draco huffs a laugh, walks Harry back against the wall behind them, his arms coming up to wrap around Draco’s neck. “Why in Merlin’s name…? There’s no one else, Potter. The fact that I’ve been away for a few weeks doesn’t change that.”

Harry’s shoulders bump against the wall. Draco leans in to kiss him, deep, a kiss to stress his point. Tell him everything that he feels it’s still too early to tell, but that needs to be said somehow. His hands snake down to the small of Harry’s back, slide into the pockets of his jeans, and Harry moans into his mouth. 

“God, I missed you,” Draco tells him when they break for air, a breathless string of words. “What? I did!” He argues, when Harry lets a disbelieving little laugh. 

“It's hard to tell sometimes. With you.”

“Is it?”

“You're so… collected, all the time.”

“I don't  _ feel  _ collected.”

“You certainly give the impression that you are.”

Draco squeezes Harry's arse through his jeans, presses his hips against Harry's. The feel of Harry's cock, hard against his own, is divine, even through layers of clothes. Draco groans into the crook of Harry's neck.

“And you? Did you miss me?” He asks.

Harry places his hands on Draco's shoulders, puts an inch of distance between them. “Miss you? Oh, not at all.” He points at the mug on the table with a wry shrug. “I only crossed an ocean for that exceptional cup of tea.”

Something must have passed on Draco's face, because Harry cups his cheek then, runs his thumb under his eye. “You’re an idiot. Of course I missed you.”

_ “I'm _ the idiot?  _ You're _ the one who traveled halfway round the world because you couldn't go another minute without seeing me.”

Harry smiles, a mixture of bashfulness and pride. “Yeah, I couldn't. And now I’ve gone through all that trouble for you. How do you suggest you make it up to me?”

“I have a few ideas… and time. Isobel gave me the day off tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know. I may have begged for her understanding of my special situation.”

“Which is?”

“I told her I expected you to fuck me so thoroughly, I'd need a good 48 hours to get my fill of you.”

Draco's mouth falls open in horror. “You  _ didn't!!” _

Harry bursts out laughing. “The actual content of that conversation will remain between me and Isobel.”

Draco hides his face in his hand and groans. “I'm going to kill you.”

“Will you fuck me first?”

Draco looks up at Harry then. He’s watching him with a cocked eyebrow. He’s exactly like Draco remembers him — cocky, a bit smug, certain of his charm — and Draco can’t help but smile. “Would you be willing to relocate to my bedroom for that? Or will the kitchen do?”

“I've traveled this far for you. I can travel a short distance down the hall.”

“Thank you.” He can't believe his luck. Harry Potter, his sexy, infuriating, wonderful, and very new lover —  _ boyfriend? _ Is that what they are? — couldn't wait a few more weeks to see him. It has to mean…  _ something _ . Hasn't it? It  _ must _ . Draco's heart is beating a mad rhythm, but he won't tell Harry that. Not yet.

Instead he kisses him, tender and hot. “Thank you for coming, love.” And says once more, against Harry's smiling lips: “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are lovely!
> 
> Original prompt and post [here](https://lettersbyelise.tumblr.com/post/184341976031/for-the-new-follower-prompting-3-traveling-long).
> 
> Come say hi to [me](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lettersbyelise) and [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


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